A Real Hero
by Alex Schira
Summary: The Titans are about to meet a new breed of hero. Not one with gadgets, powers or magic, but the one thing that matters. Guts. Read and Review, updates will come eventually.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Teen Titans. I do own all original characters in this story, though.

It takes a real hero to face death and chaos every day. To walk by the Grim Reaper and laugh. To go out every morning and face a new something new every day that would send any other man off on his feet screaming. I, am that kind of hero.

This legend begins with a daring scene. The setting, a vast body of water that if not for the structures on the horizon it could pass as an ocean. We look down on a scene that sends chills to many a heart, in the middle of a raging, thundering storm ravaging the surface of the endless water, is a boat. A kayak, actually. The last kind of vessel one would want in this weather. The man in behind the oar only keeps the tiny craft afloat with his own will, smashing the blades against the water to keep level and to keep moving at a destination he can't even see through the rain.

He's wrapped in jackets and waterproof clothe that barely keeps him warm, but despite his chilled bones he fights on through the torrent. Soon enough his efforts shine through as an island appears before his tiny boat. A small, uncivilized island that would be deserted if not for the T-shaped tower in the atop the rocky mound. Our hero pulls with all his might to beach his craft, before squeezing out of his faithful transport, dragging it o shore and roping it to a rock so it doesn't blow away. He then runs through the wind and hail, up the winding path to the tower.

He cares not for his own safety, protecting only one thing. A bundle he holds against his chest as if the fate of the world itself depends on its safety. He soon fins himself at the door of the unusually crafted tower, he approaches the main entrance. He finds it sealed with a steel covering, he sees an intercom and a tiny hatch on the side. He smiles, knowing his journey has been a success. He sighs, trudging through the mud o the panel and he pushes the call button. He feels a ring tone before some one answers, asking who it is.

"Pizza. Three cheese, one quarter sized sausage, and a vegetarian special. It'll be 27.86."

He hears shuffling before a new voice answers.

"…you're twenty minutes early…we were hoping to get it free."

He smirks in true victory, once again he'd conquered the thirty minutes or less fate.

"Well, you want 'em or not?"

A sigh is hard from the speaker, and a hatch opens under it.

"We're on the top floor, send it up the chute."

Our hero looks at the hatch, shrugging and putting his bundle in it. It closes and a rising sound is heard.

"Put them on our tab."

And he clicked out. Our hero loses his smile, hitting the call button again.

"…what is it?"

"…Sir..eh…"

"What?"

He clears his throat. The person on the other line grunts and another click is heard. He tries the call button, the line was turned off. Our hero's eye winces, he steps back to look at the tower.

"HEY! Where's my tip!"

He only gets a face full of the receding rain as his question goes unanswered. He screams it again and again, cursing the tower itself before sighing, leaning against the structure to catch his breath.

"Son of a…wait…how does a T-shaped tower even work?"

He hadn't seen any supports under the wings at the top. He curses once again and goes to find his kayak.

That guy…eh…was me.

The storm receded as I paddled back. As I slapped through the lake toward the pier I grumbled about where life had taken me. You see, I'm not your run of the mill pizza bum. I'm the best.

It all started a few years back in my senior year of high school. All my life, I've been a fighter. Actually I'm a professional mixed martial arts fighter. By the time I graduated I had quite a few trophies and titles to show for my boxing/karate dedication. The problem is, the prize money gets me enough to pay for my apartment and necessities. But not enough for the good stuff. A cell phone with a night vision camera. A microwave with a flat screen TV on the front. A girlfriend.

So I became a pizza boy. But the pay was even less than my fight pay-offs. So I took it upon myself to become the best pizza guy around. I'd make my weight in tips. And I did. I did.

For years I've had a perfect record. Not a single missed delivery or free late pizza. I've gone up the ranks to the top delivery guy in this area. They don't stick me with the two block walks. Oh no, I get the real jobs. Last month in the middle of an alien invasion two government agents in sunglasses ordered some breadsticks, from the middle of the mother ship's propulsion core. Well, I got it there while the cheese was still melted. Last week a submarine got stranded at the bottom of the ocean off the coast. When the Navy Seals got there to rescue them, the captain and crew were splitting up the pepperoni slices.

How do I do it? Guts. Pure guts. And I've done it all without a car. I can't drive. It's a physical disability. All I have are two feet, a hat, and a thermal insulated bag that can accommodate six pizzas and fixings. I'm also a jack of all trades and have turned down positions from the FBI, CIA, and I can't remember the name of the last group. They made me sign some paper hat said I didn't remember them, and they paid me to forget everything. By the way, the guy at the Area 51 Gate is a great tipper.

So I've been called the ultimate pizza delivery method. Could be. Until a day ago my boss informed me that a party couldn't pick up a pizza due to schedule problems, and if today I could deliver a pizza. To a tower, on an island, in the middle of a lake in hurricane weather. Those tower people are the first punks since my first delivery who haven't tipped me. Who did those guys think they are, the planet's protectors? I understood they couldn't come to the door, but why not send down a five dollar bill down their fancy chute? I've disguised myself as a ninja android and smuggled a pizza to the mayor back when the city was taken over by that guy in the mask. What makes them so high and mighty?

When I did walk back into the pizza parlor, sopping wet, wringing out my clothes and carrying a full sized kayak on my back, nobody looked twice. I've come in looking weirder. Like that ninja android thing, it's great at costume parties.

"Setanta, how's the tips?"

An elderly Italian man was behind the counter rolling dough. Setanta, my last name. How are my tips?

"…Sir, I got there fifteen minutes early in this weather and they skipped the tip."

My old boss laughed.

"You'll get 'em next time…You always do."

And he kept rolling dough, chuckling to himself in Italian. I squished into the back room to dry off and regain feeling in my extremities. I'll get what I deserve next time. And they'll get theirs…oh yes, they will. They'll ask for pepperoni, get cheese, and no refunds…

The Next Day

It's sunset. The pizza hour is coming. I'm in the back room once again, suiting up in my hat and monogrammed jacket. I look in the mirror at my brown sport cut, streaked with peroxide blonde. My face, stoic and serious as always. I had a cut over my right eye from a kickboxer from downtown. I had it covered with petroleum, no band aid, I've always roughed it out.

As I pulled on my old pizza-logo baseball cap I remember the previous day. Nearly dying in a hurricane, and no tip. Even that giant fighting robot in that old stadium gave me a tip. Even the nerdy guy in the moth suit who took the pizza from a basement window. Who doesn't tip the pizza guy?

I walked out behind the counter and sat down on the edge of a shelf, waiting for one of the big jobs. I watched the new guys shuffle out with their boxes and drinks, out to their junker cars and pick up trucks. They've probably had to fight off mutated dogs, disgruntled fat people, or disgruntled fatties who actually sick the mutated dogs on you.

We got the call at eight. Same order as last time. Sausage, three cheese, and the vegetarian special…this time with an order of breadsticks. Well, eating fancy tonight, you dirty tip hogs? When my boss put down the phone he just looked at me and nodded. I grabbed the boxes, loaded up my bag and headed outside. A friend had borrowed my kayak for some reason, said it was for a date. The heck, it's a one person kayak. It wouldn't work out at all! Wait…unless…oh crap, now I have to sterilize my kayak. There's a sentence you don't say every day.

As I walked down the block to the pier to rent a boat, I felt a breeze pick up suddenly. I shrugged, figuring it was a windy night after a storm and kept walking. Then I felt something odd under my feet. Nothing. I look down to see the dark night sky dotted with stars and the moon. I looked up to see over the brim of my hat was the night-lit city flying by. Wait, where'd my pizzas go? I look down again and see an orange hand holding my ankle firmly. I tilt my head to see another hand holding my bag of pizzas. I take a few more looks at the upside-down city before making a guess that I was being held upside down by my ankle. I decided to test my theory by talking to whatever was holding me, I couldn't see who or what it was from here.

"Hi there! I'm Dave Setanta. So, mind telling me…oh, I don't know…WHAT IN THE GREEN HELL IS GOING ON!"

I heard a bubbling voice come from behind me, I couldn't see the face though. Sounds feminine.

"…why, I believe we are not in an Emerald Hades…but I am here to find the Bearer of Pizza."

"….what?"

"My friends and I ordered a pizza, a tasty edible disc. Cyborg explained a human would be delivering it to us in time, so I searched for a person carrying a pizza container. Are you the guy who is bearing our pizzas?"

"…I'm the pizza guy, yeah."

I scratched my head, which was hanging hundreds of feet in the air as we went over the dark colored lake.

"…hey uh…who are you exactly?"

"I am Starfire!"

…huh…is that Vegan or something. Wait, 'Starfire' must be female. This could be a better tip than I thought…aw, right.

"I apologize for not explaining my not being human, I am from Tamaaran."

"…ain't that in Jersey?"

"If 'Jerr-see' is the Guylos Galaxy, yes you are correct, pizza master."

Wait…galaxy? Flying…orange skin…odd name…she doesn't tip the pizza guy…

"Hey, are you an alien?"

"How did you know!"

…and freakishly cheery…yeah, she ain't human.

"…just a sec…SOMEBODY SHOOT IT!"

I waved at who ever might see me, pointing at whatever the heck was holding my by the foot. I saw a speed boat pass by full of college kids, one had a loud speaker.

"DUDE! You'd fall and die if we did!"

I thought that over calmly, holding my chin upside-down.

"…on second thought…SHOOT _ME_, IT'LL BE FASTER!"

Hey, the last thing I need is something popping out of my chest and taking over the world until Wynona Ryder comes along for the tenth time in the same franchise.

Author's Note

Continued next chapter, please review. This isn't some serious fan story, more of an artistic humor piece. Oh, who am I kidding, it's for laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: See previous entries.

…they didn't shoot me. They pulled out a BB rifle and took three shots, but they missed. I sighed, figuring they tried and going back to talking to the thing that was about to use me as food/reproduction material/entertainment/ possibly furniture.

"…so, does your race value money?"

"…you mean the tiny pieces of metal that don't taste like pizza, and the green paper notes that are very tasty but also do not resemble pizza in texture?"

…the pizzas…that's it! Wait, I made that oath about dying before giving up my parcel…man, what was I on…hold it…

"…you say your friends ordered the pizza…"

"Correct, Lord of Pizza!"

Well, in that case I can save my life without having to commit suicide out of shame. I clear my throat, hard to do upside-down.

"…you realize that now that you are holding the pizzas, my services are not required?"

Silence from above me.

"…I mean, you can just tip me and drop me off…"

Before I could specify 'on nice, soft ground close to a place that serves cheap alcohol' she got the message a bit too early and dropped me without a word into the lake. On a reflex I yelled as I cut through the air, twisting to land feet down. By some good twist of fate, I hit the water cleanly and cut through to about twenty feet of relatively clear water.

Insert thirty seconds of swimming to the surface, wasting my air bubbles to loudly curse underwater every few seconds. I break my head into fresh air, gasp for a minute and curse some more as I take a look around. Is that…oh, that just figures…

Right in front of me was the island in the middle of the lake. With that Tower that appears on Sesame Street every 26 episodes. I glared at it, hating who ever lived in that thing. Then I saw a little orange speck in the sky float down onto the top and disappear. Holding a tiny black speck in its hand. The pizzas…

"…I knew those tip-mongers weren't human…"

I spit a stream of water out the side of my mouth and started my second glance around the lake. Looked like I needed to get over two miles of water against the tide. And I'm guessing the perky, yet psychotic orange aliens in that simply designed tower won't let me borrow their pontoon. And even if they did give me a ride, what would we talk about? I can handle being eaten, but sitting there silently as some one gives you a ride? That's just awkward

I just sighed and started swimming away from the little island toward the building-lined horizon. Maybe I'd get back before the shop closes. About a quarter mile out those kids in the speed boat sped by, saw me and curled around next to me, cutting the engine. Some one called out.

"Dude!"

I stopped swimming forward, dog paddling in one place.

"…yeah?"

They got out the loud speaker.

"You alright?"

I just stared at them, up to my shoulders in clothes that were definitely not made for swimming, my pizza bag stolen, and for the third time in my career, no tip. Wait, I'd sacrificed my tip to live another day. I'm still debating whether it was worth it. But in the mean time, I waved my arm behind me, signaling the drunken teenagers to pull up closer.

"I'm fine, back in Atlantis this is a walk in the-GET ME OUTTA' HERE!"

A few hours of me shivering in the back of a party boat later…they got lost a few times. Eventually I shoved the frat boy out from behind the wheel and did it myself.

Later on I walked into the pizzeria, soaking wet, missing my pizza bag and reeking with the stench of not getting a tip. Oh, and that green algae stuff in the lake also smells like burning rat feces.

And, my hat was gone.

...I had ten back at the parlor...but _the _hat...was gone...

My boss didn't look up from the dough he was rolling, he just clicked his tongue and nodded toward the back room. I squished through the gap into the counter and shoved my way through the swinging door, when the door swung back out behind me I walked in from behind it wearing an identical, but dry and fresh outfit, hopping onto the counter next to my boss. Don't ask. I can change my clothes very fast. Helps to go commando, word from the wise.

"…got dropped in the lake. No tip. Lost my bag, and I think it's the same stiffs from yesterday."

And...my...hat...

He shook his head at the dough and muttered.

"Some people…I come to this country for new life. One week's tips? They pay for my house! And I had bicycle, go few blocks over to apartments. You? You get dropped in lake, fall off cliffs, things bite you. Why they no tip? You good boy, I always like to carry my pizzas."

…every time he starts talking in Italian like that I just wanna hug him. He's like a tiny little Godfather dude, who makes pizza and does mob deals on his days off.

"People change, boss. People don't watch the Yankees and go to the pictures with their buddies. They fly around, use terrible grammar and drop people in freezing lakes because they find out you're not low-carb. And the economy sucks."

Boss sighed, stepping back and tossing the dough up to flatten it out.

"Yes it does, my son. Yes it does."

He gave me the night off because that thing stole my pizza sack. I honestly don't need one, but it's bad publicity to fight off hoards of pitbulls balancing pizzas on your head. And then people won't see the logo on my...hat, and people won't order us, we've all been there.

I catch the underground over to my apartment, an artsy high ceiling deal above a dance studio. Low rent, good neighbors, internet access and the owner of the studio gives me deals when I do favors. Did I mention it's above a dance studio? Who needs a stereo, I just open my vent ducts leading to a room playing music I like. This evening, it was tango. Also, that locked closet of mine that houses whatever I may need for work. Equipment, apparel, lots and lots of knives, and my collection of baseball caps that have nothing to do with baseball.

I sat down in front of my 'desk' (…the box my computer came in) and pulled out my cell phone, the pizzeria pays for the service, and I can't exactly afford to have a phone line installed in here. I speed dialed number 3 and wait for the ring tones to stop. Soon enough a chalky voice answers, sounds like it's full of nachos.

"Herro?" Munch.

"Chico? It's Dave. Where ya' at?"

The sound of some one swallowing.

"Still at work. Just got another box of files, it'll take all night to put them in order. So I'm waiting until my shift is over and the other guy gets here. So, how are tips, Mr. Delivery?"

I nearly crush the black and silver flip phone, but the beat of the tango music calms me down.

"…actually, somebody has been skimping."

The sound of a rolling chair and a computer firing up.

"One file search, coming up."

Enter Chico. My buddy who works down at a census academy downtown as an intern. He does files. That's about it. I didn't realize the advantages of this until that moth-guy's daughter grabbed my ass and I needed their last name to file a lawsuit.

"'Kay, we're online. Start yakkin'."

I picked up a stress ball off my desk/cardboard box and started squeezing it as I thought about what I'd seen after being grabbed from above.

"…eh…this may sound weird…"

I heard him crack his knuckles over the phone.

"This is Jump City, how weird?"

"…flying-through-thin-air weird."

He whistled and typed that in. A few seconds later he coughed loudly, making me win away from my phone before he answered.

"…346 results, seems like a popular hobby."

I blinked, letting that sink in.

"…wow, everybody gets powers but me."

He laughed before asking.

"Get specific. What was it? Male, female, other?"

Hmmm…_other_…nah, that's too easy of a joke target. I tossed my stress ball to my other hand and added.

"…sounded like a chick, never saw its face though."

He snorted as he began typing.

"Not gunna' ask…237 results. How about nationality?"

…oh boy…

"…is it still acceptable to say skin color? I mean, how can you call some one African American if they're from Jamaica?"

"…yeah, we still use color down here."

I nod in relief. Thank God the Feds are narrow-minded idiots.

"Orange. Her hand was, at least."

Typing sounds, man, that headset of his has a strong mike.

"7 Results, assuming the rest of her is orange. I'll print them out for you before my shift gets out, I don't think there's much else we can look into."

I sighed. No tip, I'm sitting on a tiny chair I bought from a kindergarten that closed down, my desk is a computer box left over from when I actually had a computer, the tango class is over and now I have to track down orange people because their room mate is cheap. I tried to ease my pain with humor.

"Well, she had terrible grammar…bit of a ditz, but I bet that secretary down there would sue if you used that as a census, eh?"

We both broke out laughing at the inside joke, but Chico suddenly stopped silent. I did the same, thinking his supervisor walked in.

"…I put that in as a joke, Man…got a match."

I wasn't sure whether to smile, or be very, very afraid of what the government knows about us.

"…she say any weird words? Like Tamaaran, Gonkarky, did she not use contractions?"

It all came flooding back to me. Much like that lake she dropped me into.

"…yes, yes, and yes."

Silence on the other line, until I heard him clear his throat and state.

"…dude, she's from that Tower."

I rolled my eyes.

"I know, is that like an alien embassy out there? And if it is, why don't they tip? Was there a political assassination or something that resulted from being tipped? The Grand Emperor doesn't have anything smaller than a fifty, bam?"

He didn't laugh.

"…Codename: Starfire…she's registered as a super-weapon. And for some reason we have police records of her ears being registered as lethal weapons."

My usual smirk faded. It gets worse. Worse, than lethal weapons for ears.

"Dave, I think she's a superhero. That Tower houses a younger group, they censor some files about them. I think my boss should have deleted this file, actually."

I shrugged, makes sense.

"So, they're superheroes…this is Jump City, who isn't?"

"…I got bad news, man."

…what could be worse than whatever else this day could throw at me?

"They're government funded. They have a credit account, quota for personal spending, the works. Whatever these guys can do, the Government likes it and pays extra for it."

…so that's why they didn't have to answer the door…

"I'm sorry, man. There's no way you're getting a tip out of them, half of them aren't even human. I think one is one of those vigilantes from Gotham, and another…"

I let the phone slip from my hand, letting it clatter onto the dusty wood floor. He kept calling through the speaker.

"Dave? Dude? You hear me?"

I didn't. I was staring right at the broken mirror that was built into the wall behind my desk. Staring back at me was the greatest pizza boy who ever rang a door bell. And by God Himself, the greatest always gets his tip…my cell phone kept going, he hadn't hung up.

"Dude, listen to this."

A very obvious fart noise came from the phone on the floor, right as I was staring symbolically into the mirror.

"…way to break a moment, Chico…"

And he farted again. Once upon a time, this would be funny. It may sill be, but he ruined my vow of…hehe, he did it again…who am I kidding, farts are still funny. Oh yeah, yadda yadda yadda, I want my tip. Unless you want to hear an orchestra of flatulence, I suggest you stop reading.

...But by all that is sacred, I want that hat back...

Author's Note

I have removed the second and third chapters in order to start over. I have recieved the first honest, helpful review for one of my stories on this site. It really made me look at the monitor and realize I need less subtle humor, and more Chicago-style action. Thank you, honest reviewer. When pizza boys take over the goverment, your life assignment won't involve lonely farm animals.


	3. Chapter 3

DISClAIMER: See previous entries.

Four pizzas delivered before noon. Can't say it's a personal best, but it's a good day. What's that? You think this is no big feat? Well, I'm sure your mother loves taking you to school dances after five years in high school.

The first order, large pepperoni and sausage. Extra thick crust. Ordered by two men who tried to rob a bank, and have been leading a hostage situation for close to sixteen hours. A SWAT team covered me when they led me through the barricade, they shoved me through the revolving door, I had a machine gun aimed at my head while the guys searched me for a wire or gun, before they took the pizza, tipped me with a gold bar they found in the back of the safe and bid me a good day.

I didn't mention this to the police while I left, but the guns they were using were using ammunition belts that weren't compatible with the series, they'd jam like a laser printer if it came down to a shoot out. But more importantly, do pawn shops cash in gold bars? Or can I go to the supermarket where they have those change machines, and toss in my spare change, jam the brick into the coin slot and get the cash amount at the register?

Next job, three personal pans and a six pack of diet cola. Three college girls are chained to an office building's main doors, protesting the prescription drug checks it processes. And they ordered pizza from a cell phone. The problem is, they're on a hunger strike. How did I sneak the stuff to them without the crowd and the cops noticing? Very, very carefully. I had a friend of mine crash his car into a street lamp next store, the cops and the crowd ran off to make sure he was okay and I snuck the food to the girls, they ate it in ten seconds and one pulled a ten dollar bill for me out of her shirt. I'd say her bra, but these are some serious hippies. And I'm also framing the ten dollar bill as a trophy.

The next two aren't worth telling about. Some sewer workers two hundred feet underground, and a window washer on a high rise got the munchies on the outside windows of the eighty second floor. Both times I used a bungee cord and a crowbar.

As I walked back into the parlor around twelve of five, with a crowbar over my shoulder and my bungee cord wrapped around my waist, I saw an unusual sight. A TV crew, a blonde reporter and her camera lug, were interviewing my boss as he rolled dough. Both the bimbo and her camera guy were on their knees as he spoke, he's a tad vertically challenged. I stood there next to a table full of people waiting for a pizza, watching him speak. The family did a double take when they saw me wearing climbing equipment, but the other delivery guys and chiefs didn't notice.

"My parlor has not been hurt. City get earthquake, hurricane, fire, no-thing hurt my business. We rebuild, we repaint, we move building twice. Closest we get to closing, invasion of…"

He looked down at the dough, deep in though before he saw me and yelled out, while they were filming.

"Hey! Davie, what were the tiny green things that try to eat you called? My mind, it skips me."

I thought it over, scratching my head with the crowbar as I did so.

"Eh…you mean the tofu?"

He nodded, turning back to the clueless reporter and her camera dude, who was trying not to laugh.

"Yes! Yes, the tofus try to wreck our last building. Police, they tell me to run. I tell them 'I got a shoe, and it's got a heel on it. No tofu gonna take my business.'"

…he actually said that. I was there. He actually beat those things down armed with one of his shoes while he hopped around in one sock and one boot.

I on the other hand, was ambushed by a dozen of those things, ended up victorious but unconscious, and for three days I was considered dead until I walked into work missing my hat and one of my kidneys. I found the kidney later and managed to get it back wherever it goes, but I really miss that hat. They gave me a new one for free, being back from the dead and all, but still. Twas' a good hat.

...I didn't sleep until I found it. And now it's gone.

I had to hold my sides together as my boss went into detail about that time the ninja robots invaded and I trashed one, used its armor as a costume and kept delivering pizzas while the city was taken over by the guy in the mask the news keeps going on about. Actually, I still wear that costume at parties, it's a riot. But the way my boss slaughters grammar like Jack the Ripper is just priceless.

The reporter fell so behind while he rambled she cut the interview short, probably on the verge of pulling her bleached hair out. My boss went back to rolling dough, untouched by all this as they looked around for some one else to interview. At the time, I was tiptoeing behind the counter, being ultra- stealthy with fifty feet of elastic around my waist and carrying a crowbar. Somehow, it didn't work out. They spotted me and ran over, that reporter must be wearing five inch heels by the way she walks.

"Sir! Sir? Would you be interested in broadcasting your opinion to the fine citizens of Jump City?"

"Sure, it's up there on my list under a sulfuric acid enema and chopping my…"

Before I could finished my statement the guy had the camera set up in front of us, she was fixing her hair next to me, and my crowbar and rope were on the floor next to me. Well, might as well make the best of this. The red light clicked on and she started.

"Mr..."

She looked at me, I answered.

"Setanta."

"Mr. Setanta is one of the city's pizza delivery boys."

…boys? I'm old enough to buy alcohol and cigarettes wrapped up together in a porno magazine.

"He has often ventured out in the city in times of chaos or riot. Mr. Setanta, do you feel the 'super' population of Jump City has been an asset to our society?"

I stared at her, not because the camera was focusing on my face either.

"Call me Dave. And if you mean the people with powers, I'm pretty neutral on the matter. I'm not protesting their existence, I've met quite a few and they're good people. On the other hand, I'm not trying to get powers or building a battle suit like many half-wits are."

The blonde faked interest, probing further.

"'Dave', your associates have testified that they are suspicious of you yourself being superhuman."

I looked to my left, glaring at the other pizza guys who were hiding behind the counter.

"I'm all natural."

"Your boss has mentioned several unique abilities of yours…"

I spun my head back and glared at the camera.

"Nothing that can't be pulled off with practice and dedication."

Finally, she switched to the main topic that these interviews were really about.

"How do you feel about the Titans? Anything you'd like to tell them about their achivements?"

…now, a few citizens had blankly stared into the camera and said 'Hi' or a short sentence. I, being not camera shy nor stupid, looked right at the camera and gave my message.

"You punks owe me a well earned tip. Don't think I let it go. I am not going to rest until I get what I rightfully deserve."

…they broadcasted this on the morning news the next day. All the interviews actually. Not much happens in this city that doesn't involve something blowing up, so they did all nine interviews on the slow side. They saved mine for last, including my statement for the city's protectors. The old news anchor chuckled when they cut back to the main set, seeming impressed.

"Well, that last guy seems to mean business. I've done a few news reports on him, remember his name folks."

And he bid the city good morning, and the news ended. I was sitting on the counter of the parlor, craning my neck up to see the TV tucked near the ceiling.

"…does my hat really shadow my face like that? You could only see my chin and mouth on there."

My boss shrugged.

"You always look like that. Like you wear mask. It look good on you, lot of good looking people wear masks."

He went on about all the people who wear masks. Most of them, members of the Justice League. Whatever happened to sports? Back in the day people beat each other up over baseball teams, now it's Green Lantern vs Superman on the moon all day long.

It was a slow day. Climb to the top of a stalled roller coaster car with a bag full of iced sodas and ribs. Some guy was stuck under a subway car, and if they pull him out, he dies. Eventually he wiggled his way out and he turned out fine, good for him. But an hour of being stuck under a train car and listening to priests giving last rights makes a guy hungry. He couldn't reach his wallet, but one of the priests slipped me a fiver out of the collection basket he'd been carrying to the bank when he heard there was an accident.

Then, the order came. Sausage, cheese, veggie personal pan, breadsticks…the order pattern has the same tone as the ones ordered by the Teen Tip-Hogs…Before my boss even finished writing down their order, I was standing behind him with my brand new kayak over one shoulder, a portable sail to make the trip faster, and a baseball bat. When he glanced at me as he walked over the oven he said.

"…Davie, these are superheroes…"

I sigh, walking to the door of the back room, tossing the bat away, and coming back out with another bat, jet plane style aluminum.

"That's my boy.."

He whipped up their order, loaded it into a climate-controlled bag that replaced my old one, and waved me off.

"Remember, the bigger they are, go for the knee caps!"

I thanked him for the advice, walking down to the pier whistling a happy tune.

One speedy trip across the lake, and I was standing in front of their intercom, tapping the doorbell with the handle of the bat. A different voice answered, deeper, worse grammar.

"Yo-yo?"

I clear my throat.

"Pizza."

I was nearly blown back by the sound that came from the speaker.

"YAHOOO! Send that baby UP!"

I smirked, thankful he couldn't see my face.

"Your little elevator thing is busted, I can't get the pizza in."

A serious question.

"Seriously? Storm must have shorted it out…"

I shrugged.

"Looks like some one busted it with a bat. Damn teenagers. They must have drove by in a speedboat to bust your mailbox."

A groan.

"…again? Son of a…"

And he clicked out, and I snickered at the sound of an elevator coming down, hoping I had enough pine tar on my bat tape.

When the main door slid open, I was crouched on a ledge over it, holding my bat over my head like a rogue samurai. When I saw some one step out, I leapt into the air, falling with my bat extended before me, screaming like a true martial artist before impact…

**CLANG!**

…and I bounced off like a super ball. I collapsed into the dirt, my bat knocked out of my grip. A heard that voice from high above me.

"…where are the pizzas?"

I struggled to pull my head out of the dirt as I pointed at the neatly stacked pizzas next to the door. I heard a loud 'Sweet!' as I pulled out and looked at who ever I'd just bounced off of.

…it's a freakin' cyborg…seven foot tall, six feet wide, blue an silver parts, and he was devouring one of the pizzas as he stood towering over me. I looked down at my feet, seeing the metal bat bent into a curve that matched the shape of this guy's bald head. I slowly glanced back up, watching him clean out the box before tossing it over his shoulder. He sighed, looking down a me like a lion that just ate.

"That hit the spot…"

…he hadn't noticed I'd tried to knock him out and break into his home…

"Dude, my bud Robin handles the tips, he's the only guy in here who carries cash."

I tipped up my hat brim to get a clear look at the half-metal face.

"…so…can you send him down?"

Hey, getting beaten down with a broken bat probably hurts. But the hungry cyborg closed his organic eye and shook his head.

"He's been in his room for days, won't come out. After that Slade guy again."

I raised an eyebrow, stepping back, the height difference made it hell to make eye contact with this…guy-thing.

"…who?"

The metal teen shrugged, rolling the normal eye.

"The guy in the mask, took over the city once?"

I nod, remembering.

"…Oohhh yeah…black and orange armor, has a base full of gears and cogs, bit of a lazy eye?"

The bionic brother did a double take.

"…how'd you know that!"

I shrug.

"Only three people in this region have ordered pineapple and sausage on a plain crust. Two of them live in dark lairs filled with gears and shadows. One of them wears a weird mask. My boss said he called himself 'Mr. S', then he took over the city and spared my life because I his cheese hadn't gotten all over the top of the box.."

The cyborg stared blankly at me, wondering whether to step on my or ask more.

"…eh, that's the dude…"

I slowly nod, backing toward the path down to the shore.

"…so, I'm not gettin' a tip?"

He sighed.

"Sorry dude, maybe when Bird-Boy finds a body."

I nodded, tipping my hat and walking off to my boat, until I was out of ear-shot. I then screamed toward the sky that I hated my life. So, why didn't I kill him? He's a seven foot tall cyborg. And my bat was broken. And my leg is sore from playing tetherball with those school kids.

So, I'm not getting a tip because some dead guy never floated down river. Who to blame? This 'Bird-Boy' owes me twenty bucks so far, I don't care who took over the city, I earned that money fair and square. Oh, he also owes me a new bat, a pizza bag, and that hat I lost and found in the Tofu Invasion. Okay, so the last one has nothing to do with him, I still want it back! Now if you excuse me, I have to go get a Slurpee and get change for a gold brick down at the 7-11.

Author's Note

...you heard me...the man misses that hat.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: See previous entries.

You know one of the luxuries about working at a pizzeria in Jump City? My boss has a top-notch emergency shelter underneath the parlor accessed via a steel plated hole in the back room with a ladder going twenty feet underground. It was actually a converted cellar from back in WW2, and when my boss found it he used his 'family' connections to get it renovated. Because let's be honest here, this city bites the dust so often we might as well be in France.

But let's get recent. I was sitting on my section of the counter, waiting around for a delivery when the evacuation sirens went off outside and people started running by screaming. I shrugged and kept watching the cartoons on that TV stuck in the ceiling, I love Saturdays. My boss on the other hand sighed, walking out of the back room and seeing the havoc. He said we should get in the shelter. I lost track of who was winning the energy ball fight to ask.

"…you really mean it?"

He slowly nodded. I jumped right off my counter.

"WOOHOO!"

In a flash I was in the back room, sliding down the ladder into the shelter. Well, technically it's a shelter, but it's more like a three bedroom condo underground. He's got a big screen down there, digital cable, and a glow in the dark air hockey table. If we ever get in a nuclear holocaust, I am going to become the greatest air hockey player known to Man. Well, what's left of Man after the nuclear thing. So I'll be the greatest table hockey player known to…eh…those wiggling green things that scream for you to kill them out of mercy.

I landed on my feet in the living room area, flicking on the lights and the old fashioned jukebox before going into the kitchen to turn on the other utilities. An hour of me going through the usual disaster routine later a small group of people came down the ladder, sealing the hatch behind them. My boss, his wife, his daughter and her husband.

This little palace below the Earth's crust was partly a long-term shelter that was mainly short-term, and partly a place to lay low around tax season. So, why did he let me down here along with his loved ones? By now he knows I'm easily sacrificed yet capable. And I'm the only employee who doesn't hit on his daughter. Therefore, I'm like a son to him.

Soon enough we were all scrunched together in front of the entertainment center watching the news to find out what was happening. I had made popcorn. This happens so often the word 'doomed' is often used in place of 'inconvenienced'. This time it was a giant monster. I'd say it was from space, but after all these years in Jump City I could tell it was a nuclear mutant enhanced by cosmic rays. Judging by the tail length and the shape of its extra head, probably from the Jersey area.

After an hour of it just…well, standing there roaring the military was deployed. Hey, it's got atomic breath, instant retreat. By now my boss, his son-in-law and I had started up a chain of banter. I grumbled.

"I'm going beyond the old stadium, he looks tough."

The boss's son, Nico, snorted.

"You crazy? The grunts just cut its arm, I give it a few steps."

My boss boomed like a sensai.

"He's a big one. But not that big in a small way."

…he had to be an alcoholic in secret or something…Nico and I both placed a ten dollar bill on the coffee table without looking at each other or saying anything. The 'on location' (…standing in front of a green screen) reporter went nuts, the local superheroes had arrived. Nico and I glanced at each other, our bet had begun.

Things opened up with a crash. From this distance and camera focus, we could just see some specks coming up closer to the miscellaneous green monster and start shooting smaller, brighter colored specks. As they advanced the big guy roared for the two hundredth time, this time in pain as the tiny specks hit its eyes. It tilted back before falling forward onto its stomach. I tightened my jaw as I saw Nico's hand snatch up both dollar bills.

I was about to grab the remote and change the channel when things got interesting. The specks came even closer to the thing, the camera zooming in. The specks became five or six people standing in a line formation, facing the thing's body. One was glinting in the sun and bigger than the others. Hey, the guy who answered the door that one time. Who ever the rest were, they went flying when the thing's tail swept by and knocked them off their feet as it stood back up. It wasn't dead, just ticked. I cleared my throat, Nico put the dollar bills back on the table. Still in the ballpark.

Things really went fast after that. That big lug milked his bad breath issue all the way off the farm. This would mean certain 'inconvenience' for the Super-Specks hadn't he had the firing speed of an overweight turtle sprinting uphill in high heels. I'm serious, the thing had to rear back and inhale before every blast. The (now obviously six) figures had plenty of time to dodge, superpowers or not.

My boss took the opportunity to state the obvious, he explained what each little speck was doing to save our city. The one on the far left, was somehow causing a shockwave through the ground under the thing's feet. The speck in the…hang-glider thing was throwing explosives on its head. The two specks that were flying around like gnats and shooting randomly were apparently aiming for its eyes and doing so very well, the thing was trying to cover its snout but its arms were too short.

Speaking of arms, they were being bombarded with brilliant blue blasts coming from something that I honestly thought looked like a deformed hunch back/eagle hybrid. I nudged my boss, he was usually senile enough to get these details. He squinted at the screen and mumbled in Italian. I nudged him again and he did the same thing in English.

"The metal man is riding the green lizard bird."

I squinted hard, usually I only make this face to impersonate my boss but it brought into focus the distinct shape of the cyborg riding what looked like a green flying dinosaur. Ah, so that's what he was slurring about. A bionic life form flying around on the back of a poorly colored extinct creature. Man, Metropolis gets The Man and we get these freaks. I'd be better off delivering garlic bread in Gotham, it's where I grew up after all.

While this little team-up was going on the jolly green giant had started moving, at first it looked like he was stumbling but now it was obvious he was trying to step on specks despite most of them being airborne. I lost track of who was winning because I was calculating how big the thing was, and how far each step took it towards that landmark in the background of the main camera.

Soon enough the specks struck simultaneous winning blows, and the beast fell back onto its back spikes and second head. As its horned head slammed right into the old stadium we all jumped off the couch cheering. Well, except for Nico as I snatched both Grants off the board and stuffed them into the old Denim National Bank. My boss and his family were glad the city was safe from being destroyed. Me? Sure, my apartment was fine and none of my loved ones were dead. Did I mention I won ten bucks? And since we're all alive and still have our arms, I can play air hockey.

2 Days Later, 5 Hours After The City is Re-Populated

No deliveries for a while, sadly. Everyone's too busy rebuilding their homes and finding loved ones to order pizza. I give it a day, once all the families are re-united, they're gonna get hungry.

While I was sweeping the rubble that had flown through the broken windows of my apartment my sister called my cell. She'd been crying for hours when she got around to calling me, I had to calm her down before I could get the story straight. It was my brother Kyle. He'd broken out of the slammer again, they hadn't found him since he escaped two days ago. My sister, who took care of him when he was younger, thought he might be dead. Well, I calmly told her that our little brother wasn't exactly your average lost cause. It took three detectives to get him last time he knocked off a bank chain. He gets his moves from me. And his brains from…well, not from me, the stupid punk.

After she hung up on me to call the prison again for any updates I just shook my head to myself, snapping the phone shut and back into my back pocket while I swept up broken glass and wood chips. It's one thing to be used to living in Jump City. But it took a lot for us to get use to Kyle's problems. The scholarship into MIT he lost because he got arrested for hacking the college's systems. The crimes he pulled after he got out of Juvie, starting with jus car jacks but soon enough he was on the most wanted lists for massive thefts of precious metals. You heard me. He stole shipments of gold, silver, all before he turned sixteen.

The kid's a prime example of wasted potential. Had the world before him, tried drugs, went downhill from there. He took it pretty hard when my folks died, we were raised in a foster home in North Gotham. I got into the stunt man stuff pretty young, he tagged along. He's not exactly an adrenaline addict like myself, but he can still pull off some crazy things, just like his big brother.

Wherever he was now, he's on his own this time. I have a job and a life now, I'm not helping him run anymore. I finished cleaning up my loft before helping my boss fix until some one ordered a pizza. Actually, several pizzas. With an order of cheese sticks. Where to? It comes between 'S' and 'U' and it's in the middle of the lake. Yeah, them. Eh, you know, _them_? TUV, WX, Y and Z? Island? Screw it, it's the Tip-hog Titans.

This time, I came prepared. When I beached my kayak on their little shore this time around, I was packing it. Pizzas, hat, breadsticks, Government-Issue Titanium baseball bat, and a pair of brass knuckles. Actually, they're not really brass. Legally you can't own metal ones, only durable plastic. This is a hard-headed city. So I collected a bunch of Canadian pennies and melted them down with a propane grill to make my own. I call them my Canadian Copper Knuckles, patent pending.

I buzzed the intercom, no one responded so I just said I had some pizzas and will they send some one down to pick them up. I heard the elevator coming down, so I got a good grip on the bat, took a few test bashes to loosen up, spat out my gum and adjusted the crotch of my pants before getting in a batting stance in front of the doorway. Did I mention I played baseball in high school?

I tightened by grip as the door hummed open, shifted my weight to the side to bring the bat forward…then got a good look past the doorway…

Ten Minutes of Screaming and Kayaking like a Man Possessed

"…you deliver pizza, right?"

I was sitting on my counter section, hunched up in the fetal position and covered in a blanket, shivering. I slowly nodded, my boss thanked his God before trying to figure out what scared me so much. After three cups of hot chocolate I managed to tell him what was behind that door.

"…a green gorilla?"

I winced, nodding. He scratched his head, checking my face to see if I was serious.

"…did it give you tip?"

I just shook my head and broke down crying.


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: See previous entries.

The folks down at the parlor have gotten used to my walking in from a run in unusual attire. So on a cloudy Wednesday morning no one batted an eye when I walked in with a military gas mask slung over my shoulder and several meters of bright yellow police tape wrapped around my waist. My boss was counting off bills into the old register as I dumped my bag and gas mask onto the counter and started tearing off the police tape that had snagged on my belt when I ran from the crime scene.

"How it go?"

I shrugged, unraveling a knot in my tape sash.

"Some SWAT team wanted some lunch down on the edge of Gotham. They were investigating some big heist, the entire building was pumped full of fear gas."

My boss dropped the bills onto the counter, not caring that they fluttered from the ceiling fan as he slowly turned and looked at me with a look of pure worry. He quickly noticed the gas mask sitting next to my bag.

"You bring that with?"

I shook my head, dumping the tape into the trash.

"Nah, one of the detectives saw me looking for some one with money on them and told me to put that on."

My boss seemed genuinely confused. And this is a guy who tried to turn on the microwave with the stereo remote.

"…you were walking around…breathing in gas when they give it to you?"

I smirked, hopping up onto my usual seat.

"Thought it'd make a good mask at a costume party. Everyone else was either ranting and raving in strait jackets or in bio-suits. That fear crap doesn't work on me."

My boss scratched his head, wondering why I wasn't hallucinating or showing signs of cardiac collapse. We all knew about the fear gas in Gotham, and we all knew what it did.

"What? You mean…"

He glanced around to make sure no one was around but the temporary delivery boys with no lives, and that fat family chowing down at the corner table.

"…dat' gas don't work because you breathe it in that one place?"

I slowly nodded, sliding my hat off to run my hand through my hair and shake off the grease that came out on my fingers.

"I breathed in a bit of a variation before everyone broke out. Made me pass out, but I found out later a full dose doesn't even make me cough. Just like a flu shot."

My boss nodded, taking this bit of trivia in before scraping the bills off the old Formica counter and going back to loading new bills in the drawer. I pulled my hat back on and went to stash my new Halloween mask in the back room when I heard some one walk up to my boss at the counter. I was half-way through the back door when I heard a smoker's voice loudly call out.

"Sir, your delivery boy is full of pure shit."

I slowly turned on the heel of my old, cut-down combat boots to see a burly man dressed in a stained wife beater shirt and a NASCAR cap sanding behind the counter nursing a cigarette between his meaty lips. I calmly asked.

"…pardon, Sir?"

He grinned with one side of his mouth while he held the cig in the other, showing some yellow teeth. I noticed the rather overweight family in the corner looking over, waiting for their father to make them look high-class. He calmly said in a Southern drawl.

"Son, you're full of shit! I watch my channels, I know all about 'them Gothamites and all that. I've seen people get hit with fear gas, my brother gots a video of it on his new digital camera. You sayin' it doesn't do nuthin' to ya?"

I tilt my head so I can see him clearly with my left eye under the brim of my battle-worn hat. I commented in an accent mocking his own.

"Ya' heard me…"

He sneered, inhaling and blowing out second hand smoke through his gapped teeth.

"Prove it…WHAT THE HELL!"

…did I flip over the counter and do a Fatality? No, I just reached up and pulled down the collar of my tee shirt to show the guy half of my chest and my left shoulder. And the impossibly huge chain of teeth puncture makrs that wrapped around my shoulder vertically like a sash. And right on the front of my chest, two even bigger scar marks where the two fangs had hit. The right one had missed my heart by three inches, according to the surgeon at Arkham.

I tapped the four-inch puncture scar over my heart and calmly asked as I let my shirt roll back up to my neck.

"…you ever hear of something called a Man-Bat?"

The now trembling redneck just shook his head as he just stared at me. His cigarette had fallen onto the tile floor when his jaw dropped. I crossed my arms over my now fully-covered chest and started telling the same story I've told everyone who's asked about it. And a few that just needed to know.

"When I was about a week under eighteen, some drug dealers set me up at a party and made it look like I was selling some stuff at an all-night party. I've never touched the stuff in my life, but the judge didn't believe it. He must have been either about to get axed, or he was having the worst day of his life. He said he wanted to really teach this kid a lesson. He sentenced me to one month containment at Arkham Asylum."

My redneck audience expanded as his pudgy family shuffled up behind the counter, listening to my tale.

"It was the worst twenty nine days of my life. As they were giving me a cell block tour, some mutant freak broke out of its cage and mauled me before they got it with shock darts. I was in the hospital wing for four days, so by the time I got out the other prisoners already had time to get information on me."

The teenage son asked what they did to me. I shrugged.

"A few of them just gave me a hard time. Some of them just scared me without even trying. But for the most part I blended in pretty well and got to know everyone fairly well. Except for a few who I avoided like they were monsters, but you have to understand some of them _were._"

The man and his family glanced at each other, nodding in agreement. His wife asked which ones I saw the most. She had to repeat it four times, she had like ten teeth. I waved my hand across my front and said it's not something I like to talk about.

"I prefer to…show and tell. For instance, look at this."

I leaned forward closer to them and pointed to my right cheek. They leaned over and squinted at a tiny mark that had long since tanned over. But just visible under a bright light, you could make out a faint scar in the shape of a lipstick smudge.

"Two weeks in I got herb garden duty. Working with plants soothes the savage psycho, I guess. I did a good job getting rid of the bugs, and the female prisoner supervising me kissed me on the cheek. She was kind of a tease. Thing is, it sent me into a two-day coma. Her name was Pam Islely, she mentioned later it was an accident."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keys to my apartment. Hanging from the key ring was a tiny but working Rubix Cube. I held I up for the family to see the scrambled blocks. I then put both my hands around it, and a few twists later I held up the completed puzzle.

"The Riddler used to teach college classes on how to do that."

I tossed the key chain to the man's younger daughter so she could make sure it was really solved. I then rolled up the sweat-tinged sleeve of my shirt and flexed my decent bicep.

"And look at this."

They all looked at my arm, waiting for it to explode or something.

"…it's not actually a bad thing. You ever see that Killer Croc guy on TV? He really knows his way around the gym, I was skin and bones before he gave me this protein shake recipe."

I let my sleeve back down, having already mentioned the way the Scarecrow tried to escape with some makeshift fear gas in the third week. It ended up just being strong nerve gas, but it gave me immunity to the stuff nonetheless. It's like the vomiting after a flu shot, it's a handy safeguard and it's worth the trouble.

I nodded, telling my overweight audience that I was done. But the now rather courteous father asked.

"…um…you ever hear anything about the _Bat_ while you were in there?"

I let my eyebrow slip up before looking over at my boss and nodding. He waddled off to our floor safe and started twisting the combination lock as I started another story.

"Two days before I was out, the Quake hit Gotham. Arkham was cracked open like an egg. Every inmate in there swarmed out like there was a sale at Home Depot. I got held back by the crowd, and the fact I didn't want to be in the outside world with these guys. I stayed behind in the ruins while everyone else ran off. The police still haven't found a few of them."

Thankfully my boss got the combo right on the second try, and he handed me what looked like a folded silk towel. I gently took it from him and started unwrapping the layers of cloth as I kept telling the story.

"So, there I was. Wandering around the wreckage of Arkham in my numbered jumpsuit and waiting for the cops to show up. Around an hour of this later, and I got this weird vibe."

I got the first layer of fabric off, and started uncovering the second.

"…I just stood there looking around. I just had that kind of feeling…next thing I knew I heard something behind me, and something hit me in the back. I went down like a bag of rocks. I got hit right in a knockout pressure point."

Right before I uncovered one of my only treasured possessions, the kid asked.

"…somebody…hit you in the back in the wide open? You stupid or wha'?"

I glared at the little fatass and held up what had been in the cloth. The family's eyes went wide as they saw me holding up what looked like a small, oddly sharpened boomerang made of black metal with the fins cut to look like wings. It was blunt thankfully, when it hit me in the back it just knocked me out instead of impaling me.

"When I came to, I found this lodged in the back of my jumpsuit."

I was surprised to watch them look disappointed, as if I ended the story with me turning green and ripping my shirt off. The fat little snot spouted.

"You can get those at costume shops…my Pa's right, you're a shit mouth."

My brow tightened, and with a flick of my wrist I sent the unusual projectile in a whistling arc straight out the open glass door to the parlor. The family twisted their sun-burnt necks, watching the thing fly off down the block like a real bat.

They busted out laughing, yelling I was a complete moron. Right as the father was about to call me a bundle of twigs, my little bat-shaped friend whooshed back in through the doorway and returned to my outstretched hand, knocking off the four filthy baseball caps the clan wore in the process. They stopped in mid-guffaw, staring open mouthed at me as I sat on the counter flaunting my bat-trophy. As I went to give them another demonstration, the father reached into his pockets and threw everything he had onto the counter as they ran out yelling for their Lord to protect them.

My boss chuckled as he collected the crumpled bills and old coins, watching me wrap the thing back in its cloth.

"You good with that thing, eh?"

I shrugged, examining its mirrored black finish.

"Boss, this thing did it all for me. I've been looking at it for years, it's perfectly engineered. It can do whatever you want if you know what you're doing."

He shrugged, dumping coins into the drawer and pointing to the open safe.

"I still don't believe it. The _Bat_ isn't _human. _Who ever hit you with that thing was very good, yes. But the 'Batman'?I no think so."

I just shook my head to myself as I put the thing back in the safe and closed the door, spinning the lock to reset it.

"Boss? I've seen some things that I never believed in. Some I do now, some I don't. Who ever 'gave' me this thing is something…I _want _to believe in."

Before my boss could respond, of course the phone rang. My employer grabbed it on the first ring, took an order and dropped the phone back onto the cradle in one smooth motion.

"You better start believe in something, my Son. Your favorite customers are hungry."

I glared down at the counter as he whipped up the same order they've called in for weeks. I know it by heart now.

Fifteen Minutes Later

I tapped the intercom button, and was nearly sent back by the sounds of a sci-fi movie blaring from the speaker. As I pulled my hat back on after it blew off, the sound cut to what sounded like a commercial.

"…yeah yeah yeah, who is it?"

I tilted my head at the high-pitched chatter.

"Um…pizza."

The connection clicked off and I heard the sound of the elevator going down. Now, usually I hear the elevator motor stop and some foot steps before the door opens, I think there's like a hallway in there. But for some reason the door slid open early, revealing a red-carpeted, metal walled entry hall devoid of furniture except for an elevator door on the opposite end. I looked down at the beginning of the floor, glancing at both sides of the door frame and noticing two laser sensors above the floor. I just rolled my eyes and stepped over them, some security system.

I proceeded to walk across the short hall, ducking and weaving through the well-hidden sensor areas while muttering what they triggered.

"Alarm…silent alarm…net...stun gun…spiky ball on a chain…freakin' huge boulder on a track…pie cannon…what the heck…"

Eventually I was standing in front of the elevator, holding the pizzas in one hand as I prepared to shove my way in and get my tip by force. Hey, it wasn't one of my smart days.

Things went downhill when the door opened and I didn't see anyone in the elevator. I leaned forward and looked around, seeing the button panel and emergency phone but nobody to take the pizzas. I was about to step into the thing when I heard a scratchy voice call out.

"Down here!"

I slowly creaked my neck downward, raising both eyebrows until they disappeared into my hat as I saw who was standing in the lift.

…it was a very short, green guy with pointy ears dressed in a brown bath robe and tunic with a yellow plastic flashlight clipped to a belt loop. As he glared up at me, tapping his foot as he waited for me to hand him the pizzas I had a flashback to my younger days…

You see, my old room mate was a diehard fan of a sci-fi series that he watched every hour of every day. He often dressed up in outfits similar to my little green friend here. Sometimes he would use catchphrases from the show to try and pick up women. I once caught him trying to lift the couch with his mind. Needless to say I moved out and into my shabby little loft with no air conditioning.

And as I watched this little nerd with the fake ears and green face paint try to get the pizzas from me during the commercial break of a marathon of _the _show. I got an idea so stupid, so cliché and uncreative that it couldn't possibly fail me. I reached up and coughed into my hand, and spoke to the little fellow in a raspy, filtered voice that was identical to the villain on the show. Hey, I watched a couple episodes in my three months living in that nerd-palace.

"…you do not need these pizzas…"

I held back as a smile as he lad's boyish features went blank, his eyes widening at the voice of his dark idol. Thank God, he's a big enough nerd for me to pull this off. H replied in a still scratchy but monotone voice.

"…I do not need the pizzas."

I continued holding the pizzas and doing my 'Dark Fader' voice from behind my hand.

"You will go back upstairs, and when you returned you will bring me the decapitated head of the tip-hog on a spike…and his wallet…actually, just the wallet…or the head on a spike, either one."

I smirked as he started to repeat that in first person. But halfway through I felt a sudden vibe rip through me. I called out in pain as I clutched my head.

"GAH! I feel a ripple in the Poorly Written Plot Device…"

My nerd slave started.

"You feel…wait…"

He suddenly shook his head like a dog, the spell wearing off. He looked at the way I was holding my head, remembering he had a marathon to waste his life watching.

"…DUDE! GIMME THE PIZZAS!"

I opened my eyes and literally threw the pizzas at the boy as I turned on my heel.

"I must go…some one just touched my kayak!"

…yes, for ten seconds there I actually had kayak sense…

I sprinted right out the entrance hall to the island exterior. In the process, I accidentally triggered every trap I had easily evaded on my way in. So, I had to duck my head to avoid a pie. I jumped to miss the spiky ball on a chain. Ducked the stun gun and net launcher. Managed to slip past both alarms, but right before I reached the doorway that giant stone boulder that had appeared out of thin air was getting a bit close, but one o the traps caused the door to start closing slowly yet dramatically.

Therefore, to avoid the giant boulder, I had to baseball slide under it before it closed all the way, grab my dropped hat through the closing gap before slumping back against the closed door and praying that I don't get sued by six different film companies. A few minutes later I remembered _why_ I had given up my chance to get my tip and tripped all those traps. My kayak.

I broke into a sprint for the shore, not stopping until I came upon the indentation in the sand where just ten minutes ago I'd landed my small boat. I panted as I looked around at the tiny beach, wondering if it had floated off or if I'd been boat-jacked. It's happened before, I used to have a pontoon boat but one morning I came out and it was floating on cinder blocks with the engine missing.

I just cursed, kicking the sand as I wondered how I was going to get back before dark. I'd swim, but the local mafia has been cutting back on burial costs and I'd probably get picked up by a garbage collector thinking I'm a corpse. Right as I was about to start wading in and drown myself, I heard some one explode behind me.

"_Bearer of Pizza!_"

I spun around in a defensive stance, reaching for my back pocket when I saw who had snuck up on me. Well, more like floated down and _landed_ behind me.

Standing about my height, was a red-headed girl clad in a purple skirt/top combo with some serious bracelets and ankle bands for accessories. Complete with oversized gemstones and freaky little forehead dots. After a few minutes of staring at her like the freak she was, I noticed she was smiling at me from under her huge green eyes. She was also wearing my kayak like a hat. As in putting the waist hole over her head so it stuck out on both sides like a sombero. Where to start, where to start…I cleared my throat, trying not to act aggressive in case she could spit acid.

"…you…you dropped me in the lake…"

She nodded positively, nearly tipping my boat off her head. I wondered if she was reconsidering using me as an egg sac and using my boat as a hostage. I mean, it's the closest thing I have to a girlfriend.

"…uh…what is it you want exactly?"

When she burst out in her mixed grammar, I relaxed my posture slightly, tilting my head at this girl as I was now sure this was the same one who started it all.

"I witnessed your arrival and noticed you were using a _sarukai_ as a water vessel!"

…I just stared blankly before glancing at my boat. Yeah, she ain't from the city. But she's not blonde, so she couldn't be a dumb country girl. Chico could be right, I can imagine her being from off-world. Now, back to hauling ass outta' here.

"…well, I need my…hat…back to deliver more pizzas. If you could just…"

Before I could finish my sentence she had effortlessly tossed the heavy boat onto its side in front of me. I did a double take between the small craft that only I could lift with both hands. She's the size of an anorexic ballerina, how did she do that? I pulled the boat closer with my foot as I edged away from the girl who just stood there smiling at me. Christ, this is creeping me out. She's like a possessed girl in a horror movie, except without the pale make-up and poor acting.

Right as I pushed off into the water and prepared to paddle back to Normal Town, I noticed something about the smiling orange statue that was watching my every move from the shore. Perched sideways on top of her parted red hair, was an old baseball cap extremely similar to the one I'd lost when she dropped me into the lake so long ago. I hopped out of the boat, pointing at her head as if the Virgin Mary were smoking a cigar on top of it.

"That's my hat!"

It took her a few seconds before she went cross eyed looking up at my long-lost hat. She reached up and took it between two orange hands, examining it as if she were just noticing it.

"You mean this head covering with the shade attachment? I found it in the water valley after we first crossed paths in my search for your pizza."

…maybe I should have paid attention in Latin class…whatever she said, she suddenly thrust the hat at where I was standing knee-deep in lake water. As a reflex I grabbed it, she started rambling on about payment for the food goods when we both jerked our heads at a distant voice booming from what I guessed was the roof of the tower.

"_STAR! _Quit freaking out the pizza guy! Some one spotted Slade in the downtown area, let's go!"

I recognized the voice as that of the cyborg. Without a word of explanation, my orange stalker just bowed her head and literally jumped sideways, flying up to the top of the tower as if gravity as her toy. I watched her drift off through the air before looking down at the hat I thought I'd never see again.

Seven Minutes of Paddling Like Hell for Fear of Probing Later

I sat on the public dock, soaking wet from the record breaking trip and clutching the hat that thing gave me while I wrung out the one I'd been wearing. After my hands were dry I pulled out my phone and hit the speed dial. Two rings later.

"…Herro?"

"Chico, spit out that taffy and listen to me. You know that one alien? Dropped me in the lake, bad grammar? No tip?"

A positive grunt.

"Well, I just tried to get my tip again, and when I came back to my 'yak she was wearing it like a hat. She was throwing it around like a hacky sack. The thing weighs 80 pounds dry."

I heard him swallow over his headset.

"Dude, she's an alien. Her profile said she could bench 80 tons."

I just stared at my phone, wondering it the line was bad or if my friend was high.

"Eh…well, she…gave me back my hat."

"…wha'?"

"That hat I lost that one time. She found it and kept it for me."

I heard him go silent. Then him trying not to laugh.

"Dave, did she tell you to 'Be Goood…', too?"

I just rolled my eyes around at the empty dock.

"Screw this, just wanted you to know."

I cut the call and dialed another number from memory. This time a chattery priest answered.

"Hi, is this the 56th street Cathedral? Well, yesterday I called in and donated for a Sunday mass in memory of a hat lost in an alien abduction. No, this isn't a prank. The thing is…I just found the hat. It's alive after all. So, could I get like a refund or…? Churches don't do refunds? Yo'? Hello? God-Dude?"

…that priest just hung up on me.

Author's Note

I'll probably revise this after a few reviews, I know it's a bit unpolished. And Stephen Spielberg, if you're reading this please don't sue me. Same for George Lucas and Harrison Ford.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: See previous entries.

You know what are really comfortable? H.I.V.E. Academy robes that you steal out of a laundry chute so you can sneak around delivering pizzas without anyone asking why your back is bulging like a bag of pizzas. I just tell them I'm a hunchback mutant and shuffle off with troubled breathing.

I was walking through one of the yellow corridors on the upper levels, glancing both ways every few seconds like an owl as I scanned the dormitory numbers. At least I think they're dormitories, on the lower levels there are group rooms but I think these higher parts are like little condos for the older students or possibly the teachers. This place is pretty self-contained for a private school. They even make their own food on the kitchen level, most public schools get their fresh meals from deep-freeze trucks. I guess they don't have take-out. I'm down here a few times nearly every weekend. Several hundred teenagers, some of them are capable of eating pizza and dialing a phone number. And I'm the only guy with the guts to go in here.

So, here I was looking for room 6729. Eventually I found such a door, and knocked on the hexagonal panel through the sleeve of my slightly baggy robe. My problem with stealing these robes is the ones tall enough for me are also very wide, and I'm no Governator.

…but the guy on the other side of the door when it slid open, could have been. If Arnold were made out of silver marbles. I'm serious. Standing a good foot over my head was a guy about four feet wide, crowding the small doorway and the bulging black tank top her wore. His biceps must have been the size of my waist. He was glaring down with a stony expression. The gimmick? He's made out of thousands and thousands of silver marbles stuck together in the form of a massive bodybuilding beast, with two red marbles stuck back in his chiseled silver face for eyes. He opened his mouth, clicking some marbles together.

"…who're you?"

I looked like the Grim Reaper during Pride Week in my little yellow robe. I reached up and lowered the hood, revealing my hat-clad but perfectly human head. I pulled two pizzas and a sauce box from the front fold of my robe.

"One sausage, one cheese with sausage on one side, assorted sauce tray?"

I didn't bat an eye when his gigantic head shifted its marble-foundation as his straight mouth lifted into a rather glowing smile. He spoke in the same growl, but in a finer tone.

"Yep'…"

He reached one tennis-racket sized hand behind himself and pulled out a tiny wallet. As he used his snake-sized pinkie to drag out a twenty, I placed the pizzas in his other tray-sized palm. I took the bill from between two silver fingers as he said to keep the change. I tipped my cap and raised my hood, turning go down the hall when he growled.

"…where you goin' now?"

I glanced at him from under the shadow of my hood before pulling a post-it note out from my dangling sleeve, checking the second uncrossed line.

"…6733. Why, they not home?"

He continued holding the pizza boxes in his palm as he swiveled his head back and forth on its clinking base, shaking his head.

"Saph'? She's always home. Just a warning…she's kinda' weird."

…coming from the result of a barrel of marbles and a metric ton of radioactive chewing gum, that has to be _weird._ I nodded my hood.

"Thanks for the tip. But I'm a tad weird myself."

I watched the marble-man noisily smile before clanking back into his room. Before the door slid closed I heard him grumble.

"And I thought _I_ had balls…"

I just stared at his closed door for a second before shaking off the compliment/warning and walking down the hall toward my last stop of the night. Once again I knocked on the sliding hatch as I readied the single vegetarian pizza under my robe with my free arm. When the hydraulics slid the panels off to the side, I was closer to yelling out in surprise than when I saw Mr. Marbles down the hall.

The person leaning against the curved door frame with her shoulder tilted at me like a girl leaning against a light post. It wasn't her shape that irked me. She was five foot and a few inches, coming up to around my neck or chin in my robe. She was clad in a baggy shorts/shirt combo with the H.I.V.E. logo on them, and judging by the lack of bagginess she _definitely_ was shaped like a human female. But enough about her bust-line, did I mention she was made out of what looked like glass?

I'm serious. Normal-looking cheerleader type, hair down to her shoulders, cheeks pinched in a toothy smile, was an older girl made whose skin was a very pale blue. In fact as she stood in the doorway before me I could see right through her face at the living area behind her, her right arm was orange because it was leaning against the yellow wall.

Completely clear, except for her clothes. Her hair was whatever color her wallpaper was. Her eyes? Just little circles carved into the clear orbs set high on heart-shaped face. As she saw me standing there holding a pizza, I saw her cheeks loosen without a hint of being made out of glass. It was like she was made out of solid water, perfectly natural movement. She leaned forward, her hair falling like a little waterfall over her shoulder as she looked at the pizza. I managed to wet my tongue somewhat and stated.

"…vegetarian deluxe…?"

She nodded, glancing her fine-carved eyes back upwards at my hooded face. She nodded, confirming it was hers before asking in a perfect casual manner, in a rather flowing voice.

"…mind if I…?"

Suddenly my hood was pulled back onto my neck, and her arm was stretched up and around my shoulder with her hand on my hood. She had stepped forward to do so, but she did it so fast I wondered if she could stretch herself like some…super-people.

So, now I was covered in a flowing robe except for my head, which just sat there atop my neck and under my pulled-low cap, hiding everything except for my cheekbones and lower face. She pulled her crystalline arm back, sliding the pizza out from my hands as she effortlessly reached up and pulled my hat bill up away from my eyes, leaving me in an even deeper state of shock.

"…you have nice eyes…"

…thanks, girl whose TV I can see through her forehead…hey, Fresh Prince is on…

I reached up and yanked my hat back down over my face as she just giggled in a twinkling manner, slipping a ten dollar bill into my hand. As the door slid closed, she stood there with her box and waved four glass fingers at me.

"Name's Sapphire, ask around for me you ever get bored…"

I think she went to blow a kiss before the door shut. Needless to say, the moment it did close I pulled my hood back over my hat and speed-walked straight to the elevator, telling myself I don't get paid enough to fight off this kind of women. Shameless, loose-minded, and probably capable of shooting lasers out of places I never look at. Pizza boys account for twenty percent of illegitimate children from bad marriages. Lady hates her husband and has five kids? One of them isn't going to look like him. And the little guy probably won't be that smart.

I relaxed somewhat as the elevator door shut, allowing me to cut the silent cult member act. Judging by the wires hanging from the vent, some annoyed student already busted the cameras and microphone. I pulled my hood back down to my neck and examined my reflection in the wall's bronzed finish. I tilted my hat brim up, looking at my eyes for the first time in months. A striking shade of dark yet vivid green, like a knock-off emerald ring in an infomercial. Girls always said how much they loved them. Well, a few bad relationships later and I started wearing a hat over them.

Speaking of which, right as I once again covered my eyes with my hat I heard a mechanical groan, followed by the vibrations beneath my feet stopping. I glanced at the floor marker near the ceiling, the elevator was between floors. I cursed under my breath, pulling up the sleeves of my robe and looking around for an emergency hatch. I couldn't use the red phone, I wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. I'd probably get arrested and then charged with the fireman's bill.

Well, Fate seems to use me as a stop watch. Right as I looked up and saw the vent opening, it caved in as some one came barreling through it in a rolling flip. I covered my eyes instinctively, letting my hands drop when I hard the sound of two padded feet touching down. When my hand slid away I found myself looking down at a rather petite-sized girl clad in a pink and blacked barber-striped gymnastics outfit. Her hair was tied into two strapped pigtails framing her head like two ram horns, framing a milk-white face that was twisted into a look of pure hatred, complete with twitching left eye. Her tiny fists clenched as I instinctively stepped back, faking a grin out of panic and rubbing my neck through my hood.

"…Jamie! Fancy meeting you here…?"

Her light pink eye kept twitching, she spoke through clenched teeth.

"Dave…I heard in the gymnasium that some one's pizza got here really fast. Knew you couldn't have gone far, it's Friday. It's been four years, figured we'd catch up for lost time…"

I covered my ears a second before the scream ripped through the disabled elevator.

"_Why didn't you pick up a phone and call me!"_

I winced, rubbing my neck harder as she stopped screaming. She panted like an angry hound as I answered.

"…Jamie, I got shipped off to…"

She cut me off with a sharp retort.

"Jinx!"

I stared.

"Um…I didn't hear you say any…"

She rolled her eyes, her pink glare intensifying when they rolled back on me.

"I meant…my name, is _Jinx_. _Jamie, _was that poor girl you were going out with when you got sent to Arkham…and didn't call when you got out!"

I regained some high ground, quickly belting out.

"…you told me you were seventeen!"

She belted right back.

"…I was tall for age, and skipped a few grades, ok!"

I felt my chin tighten.

"I turned eighteen while I was in there, and you didn't tell me the _truth_ until you sent me a birthday card! You were thirteen! How did you end up in high school!"

She got defensive, her black and pink hair swinging slightly as she whipped her neck straight up.

"…and I had what it took to date a senior! And then you went and…"

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my bunched-up cloak.

"You just remembered to tell me you were underage? It wasn't even a good thing we had, and you then it turned out you were jailbait?"

"I am NOT jailbait!"

I didn't notice the stripped bolts falling out of the ceiling of the elevator as we argued. I also saw a few buttons pop out of their grooves, her powers always went haywire during these encounters.

"You nearly get me thrown in jail, and you expect me to keep in touch? And now you're working for some rich cult? You're insane!"

She shot back.

"At least I'm getting my _diploma!"_

I felt my fists clench at that dreaded word. As I saw a vein pop out of her pale forehead I saw a section of the elevator floor drop out next to me, our argument was causing the elevator to fall apart. I glanced toward the side of my right foot, seeing an endless black shaft under my right arm. I could see a shaft of light coming from the doorway to the floor right under us, she must have stalled the thing right as I was about to get out. She started screaming about my dropping out of high school until I just looked up at my ex-girlfriend and said without a hint of fear.

"…as much as I loved seeing you again, I have a life outside this freak-house. And the hair looks ridiculous."

She gasped at my disrespect for her home/school as I saluted her with a single middle finger and jumped right down the hole in the floor down the shaft, my robe flaring out around my legs and catching on a protruding piece of metal on the edge of the hole. I slipped right out from under the fabric's hem as gravity took its course. I kept my grip on the sleeve end as my stolen cloak was stretched tight in a makeshift rope against the snag. I used it to quickly swing underneath the disabled lift and flung through the half-open doorway in the wall leading to a well-lit hallway.

As I landed on the expensive yellow tile with both feet, shrugging my bag around my shoulder and starting to walk away casually, I heard a scream come from the open shaft entrance behind me. She must have thought I actually fell, what a drama queen. I ducked into a fire escape hidden among the numbered doors to classrooms as I hoped no one checked the cameras and saw some guy without a robe on running down the steps with a pizza bag on his back.

Ten minutes of stair-jumping later and I ran out of the lobby of the private school tower into the high-class street bustling with cabs and nice cars. I ran down to the corner and slumped against a lamppost, breathing in the suddenly fresh cool air and thanking who ever runs his planet for saving me from my old girlfriend. Eventually I just smirked to myself out of nowhere, pulling my hat back down over my eyes and started walking down the marble sidewalk towards the cheaper part of town. Hey, just another day in the life of Dave Setanta.

Twenty Minutes Later

I dumped the contents of my pocket onto the counter, counting out several large coins, controlled debit-access cards, coupons, a multi-colored diamond the size of my fist, and some breath mints. Yep, all tips accounted for. My boss was wiping the counter so I swept my winning back into my hand and dumped them back into my knee-cut cutoffs. I heard him chirp.

"…hear some windows fell off that one school, the bolts snap. You run into that girl from school? One you leave in Gotham?"

I sighed, pulling my hat down to my nose and looking down at my scuffed shoes.

"…why is it every girl I break up with ends up with superpowers?"

He chuckled, wiping the sponge against the ancient but sterile countertop.

"Every one? Not a way…"

I shrugged.

"I'm serious, Boss. I'm not sure if that one counts because she was possessed by something from space, but it seems all my exs' ended up with powers after we split. Heck, Jamie started her whole bad luck phase right after I got taken off to Arkham. Found out a year later something triggered her powers after I left Gotham, I think she was just that mad at me."

My boss just shook his head, starting to whistle a tune as he started drying the counter.

"'Least they not kill you, right?"

"…they try practically every time they recognize me…I was a bit of a heartbreaker before I dropped out. That and I have a nervous tic where my eyes randomly focus on women in low-ride jeans, it's a neurological problem."

He just chuckled and kept cleaning the counter. Been working here for years, he's used to me by now. And then the phone rang. Come on, you know who called.

Twenty Two Minutes Later

It was dark out. The stars and pale moon were reflected on the calm lake surface as I stood outside the practically glowing tower on the darkened island. I admired the yellow city skyline before looking at a note from Chico in my hand. I managed to decipher the scrawls before I tapped the intercom button. I heard the cyborg answer, laughing before asking.

"…Yo-Yo?"

I cleared my throat.

"Um…I'm here to see 'Robin', I think…"

Silence.

"…HAHAHA!"

I just stared at the red light next to the speaker, glancing around at the crickets outside the tower as I heard he chorus of three or four teenagers loudly laughing practically right into the intercom. Eventually, I heard the speaker sigh and state.

"…it's your lucky day, my man! We got four Robins up here!HAHAA!"

Not…going to ask…I stared blankly at the little box as the laughing orchestra went on again for, according to my digital watch, about six and a half minutes.

I uttered as it began to die down.

"…this is the pizza guy…you ain't getting these pizzas 'till this Robin guy pays up, according to your registration papers from city hall he handles all the financial manners. He's supposed to, at least"

Note to self, thank Chico for the registration papers. Silence. This time not followed by another outburst, just awkward silence. Eventually a higher-pitched voice spoke.

"Um…he's…uh, in China looking for some martial arts master to train him?"

I raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to the speaker.

"Oh, like I haven't heard that one before…seriously, some fraternity tried that."

The deeper voice kicked in again.

"…we're serious! He left yesterday! Dude, I wanna' pay ya' but Bird-Boy's the only one who handles money! He doesn't even let us have credit cards"

I heard him out, asking afterwards.

"…well, while he's gone could you get me some collateral or something? Like something he'll want back so coughs up my tip? A Walkman, game girl, whatever the Hell you teenagers are into."

I'm twenty two. And I have a feeling these aren't drinking-age superheroes.

After a few seconds.

"…Dude…we got just the thing…"

Forty Minutes Later

For the first time in three years, my boss actually looked twice when I came back from a run. Why? Because I was dressed completely the way I'd came in, except I was carrying a small backpack and wearing a tiny, rather useless eye mask on my face. It was just a thin black frame with white lenses, despite its failue o hide my identity my boss did a double take and simply asked.

"…you put that on purpose?"

I nodded, dumping the red backpack on the counter and pulling out a two-colored jumpsuit and dumping it on the counter like a dirty shirt.

"Hey Boss, got ya' a pair of green tights, hear you're collecting them."

He dropped his dough and waddled over, picking up the fabric of the costume and staring at the stylized 'R' patch on the chest.

"…this yours?"

I reached up and once again tried to take off the mask, it was still sticking strong.

"It's mine until the tip-hog pays up. But I have a feeling the punk has more than one. This thing was folded like a flag when his friends tossed it down the chute, probably has his name on his underwear still."

My boss snorted and mumbled to himself as he went into the pack and pulled out a black and yellow cape, feeling it between his fingers. I on the other hand pulled out the object I'd examined on the walk over here, slipping into the back room and yanking off that damn mask rather painfully before sitting down on a cupboard.

Draped over my upraised hands was what looked like a chain of large, circular belt sections with various snaps and catches on each one. I was originally going to mark it off as a bad fashion statement until I felt how heavy it was. I stared at the yellow plating, wondering how the thing worked before accidentally pressing a hidden button with the heel of my palm, yelping and nearly dropping the thing before realizing it hadn't exploded in my hands.

One of the yellow discs had sprung open in half, revealing a tiny compartment dug into one of the split halves. I squinted in the dim lighting to see several little square, flat objects stacked inside the recess, counting off about six tiny flat objects tucked into the hiding place. I carefully used my nail to pull the bottom one out, watching the others slide down on a spring to replace it for easy access. I held up the odd little gizmo closer to the light.

…it just looked like a little folding pocket knife painted red, black and yellow in a random pattern. I held the flat end and flicked it with my wrist, seeing if it had any moving parts. I just raised an eyebrow when the little thing sprang to life and in a millisecond unfolded with a metallic ring into what looked like a throwing weapon of sorts, ending with two bladed prongs unfolding into a wing-shape and glinting in the dim light. I twisted it slowly between two fingers, seeing it was indeed a boomerang of sorts.

At this point, I was unaware of my boss standing in the doorway watching me. I jumped slightly at his sudden remark.

"…and you make fun of _my _collection…"

He laughed at his own joke while I glared, setting the odd device next to the belt section that held several folded ones.

"…I was just making sure it wasn't a bomb or anything."

He laughed again before closing the door and attending to a customer, but not before belting.

"Oh, don't you like to share your toys with class?"

And he shut the door. I just shook my head at his antics and stared at the bird-like throwing blade. Out if nowhere I suddenly had a mental image of something stored in the floor safe out front, wrapped in a cloth. Followed by my inner voice rasping the word '_Bat_'...

Author's Note

...yeah, Dave doesn't have a good dating record. And if you can't figure out which episode this takes place in, you probably aren't a nerd.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: See previous entries

You ever heard of a tough-man contest? If you haven't, you're probably much better off in life than me. Be thankful. It's an unsanctioned, unlicensed, unorganized and barely legal form of entertainment for people with a taste for combat sports and not much wallet padding. So, low-class people paying five dollars to crowd on some bleachers to watch two guys beat each other up in a rented warehouse after a questionable meat shipment moves out. Why would I have anything to do with this place? When I said I was a MMA fighter and kick-boxer…eh…I meant this. We know each other well enough by now that you know when I'm lying, right?

Yeah, I was a 'professional' street fighter in the Tough-Man circuit until I made it in the pizza business. Since my boss gave me my first raise, I haven't had to go near it. I can't say it was thrilling. Step into spray-painted square, and pound ego-impaired college kids or washed-out boxers into submission for a cash prize. I'd put all this behind me, except today the pizzeria is closed because my boss has a family reunion back in Italy. What do I do on my rare day off? I scrape some coins out of my tip from the day before and make an evening of it. I hate fighting. But I also get a laugh watching rich kids try to be poor for a day.

So, there I was, clad in my usual uniform/only set of clothes on the edge of the old bleachers watching from behind a watered-down soda as a clean-cut high school boy in an expensive mesh shirt was pummeled into greasy concrete by your average street punk with a shaved head and extensive tattoos around his neck. I shook my equally street-worn head at the scene, mumbling to anyone but the drunken crowd around me.

"…just another freak show…"

I drained my watery soda, tossing the cup under the bleachers as I ducked to the side and creeping through the crowded stands with my gawking legs, hopping off the end and walking out the open doors of the meat-house with my hat pulled low and my hands deep in my pockets. I found myself walking the concrete-shore of the city's loading docks. It was getting late, the sun was gone but the glow was still lighting the horizon as I passed the long-closed or abandoned warehouses and docks stemming the shore. Jump City used to be a major shipping outlet. Right up until an earthquake in the 60s turned the ocean-bound river into a saltwater lake, now it's a tourist trap and a skyscraper petting zoo.

I listened to the seagulls flapping overhead to their man-made roosts until a sound snapped the silence like a chalk stick. I snapped my capped head up and scanned the warehouse fronts for whatever made the noise. I let my guard recede as I saw the pale glow of a soda-vending machine propped against the wall of a converted warehouse. I couldn't make out which brand it was selling, because the logo was obscured by a thrashing shadow as some one banged both fists on the plastic front while screaming his or her lungs out.

Hey, it looked more intellectual than a street-brawl contest.

I stood on the concrete ledge hanging over the lake for a moment before getting curious and walking over to the wall where the vending machine was being handed its own rear. As I came closer with my hands in my pockets, I noticed the screams were definitely female. Well, that makes things more interesting. As I came close enough, about twenty feet away, to see things clearly it was very obvious what had happened.

The girl was dressed in a nice skirt and blouse, similar to what a high-class group of girls in the bleachers had been wearing while that pretty boy got a oil-stain facial. She'd probably walked out like I had, and tried to get a soda from a busted machine. As I silently stepped up behind her, she was cursing at the thing in a colorful but hardly urban sounding accent I later decided was mock-British.

I cleared my throat when I was a few feet behind her, causing her to jump a foot into the air and spin around holding a car key like a switchblade. She raised it toward my eyes while I just pushed past her with one arm and banged the front of the machine with the other, a few inches from where the right tubing support would be. Right as she screamed that she had a cell phone and had friends nearby, the soda she'd ordered dropped into the basket and her change clinked down into the return slot. I collected both, dropped her coins onto the top of the can and extended it out towards where she stood petrified at my sudden appearance and my appearance in general.

"These machines have a trick to them,"

Slowly, she slipped her key/shank back into her purse but kept in a defensive crouch. She had bleached-blonde hair and a darker-tone face, I wouldn't be surprised if she had the name of her salon tattooed on her back. She stared for a few more seconds, checking to see if I had my hand near my belt or anything before timidly grabbing the can and coins from my hand and mumbling something similar to a thank you. I reached up and tipped my hat bill before turning back to the pier and continuing my walk. I can't say I ever finished it.

The moment I was a good distance away again I heard a tearing sound and quickly looked back in her direction. My eyebrow crept up as I watched her tear the side of her skirt, ruffle the buttons of her shirt and finally reach up and pinch her face a bit to redden her dark complexion slightly. I went to walk back and ask what she was doing when I saw her turn towards the side of the warehouse I couldn't see and call out.

"Officer! Officer!"

I heard rapid footsteps as some one ran up to her. She yelled, pointing to where I stood with my arms slumped down into my pockets and my hat pulled low.

"That greaser just attacked me!"

By the time the cop had walked around the bend, I was clinging to the back of a passing pick-up truck that had sped by a second after she stated her case.

Twenty Minutes Later

"Son…we're not going to hurt you…just don't…"

I made my ankle twitch towards the ledge. The details are a bit blurry. One moment the preppy girl was lying to the cop so he'd arrest me and she could have a cheap laugh. The next moment I was on the edge of the skyline. Literally, I was standing on the roof of a ten-story apartment building close to the pizzeria. I was backed up right against the sheer drop, crouched down and panting while the half-circle of police officers tried to catch their breaths and convince me not to jump at the same time. Don't ask how I got from the dock to the middle of the city while being chased by a small squad of cruisers, I honestly forget how.

I was faking feral to keep them back. Like I was ready to just step right off the ledge, purposely twitching eyes burning and swinging around under my hat at my captors. While I looked like I was on the firing range, they were just dumb-stuck and sweat soaked. The leader reached toward me with one arm as he stepped forward, very slowly. I'm guessing the leader, his little SWAT gear ensemble had red stripes instead of black. Our tax money keeps our cops on their asses and in high-end exo-armor. Aren't they _fabulous?_

"Kid…you don't have to run like this…we just have to get you filed and get all this straightened out…"

I growled, backing closer to the edge and glancing down at the neon-filled road underneath me. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something flick by in front of as billboard. I managed not to show my sudden inspiration as I looked back and spat.

"…I didn't even _talk _to that girl…"

I looked back at the officer as he closed the ten-foot gap between his men and myself. They were on guard. They'd just seen some somebody outrun all of them in a city they knew like the back of their stupid gl;are-visors. And now I was threatening to jump if they didn't get the story straight. The helmet-clad leader sighed, looking down at his boots.

"…what, do you have drug charges? Tell you what, don't jump, and we'll just book you for harassment. The judge will hear you out, you're a free man in a week."

…this is why superheroes hang out here. The cops learn this crap from a little booklet that came with their fancy laser-gun.

I tilted my head, letting him see my eyes under my hat as I calmly said, losing my feral growl of a voice in favor of my usual tone. I watched his grayed eyebrows raise behind his face-shield as he saw my eye color, and the fact my face was unmarked by drugs or alcohol. Like I'd taken off a mask.

"…Sir. It's been an honor making your boys look like kids playing tag, but the real criminal here just walked away laughing. And now, I'm doing the same."

With that I stood upright, tipped my hat at the confused ring of men before turning around and calmly hopping off the roof like a kid off a porch step. I heard them shout a few curses as I felt the air rush up at me me. As I fell past the eight floor I adjusted my hat while free falling, wondering how they'd tell this down at the pub tonight. I saw the sidewalk rush up at me at an impossible rate and braced myself, when my plan flew into action and saved the day.

…and it nearly cracked my back like a bull-whip. I went from calm and relaxed despite my location, to gritting my teeth in pain as my fall was suddenly stopped by something catching on my pant leg and letting the rest of me swing around under it like a key-chain. After the pain of whiplash subsided, I realized I was up-side down judging by the way my hat was creeping up. I pulled it back on with one hand and looked around at the night-lit scenery before looking down to see what had stopped me from splattering on the concrete. I let out a sigh instantly at two glowing green eyes slanted down at where my head dangled from my third arm of a neck.

"…you again…"

My savior replied, shaking one finger at me with her free hand. Yeah, she only needed one hand to hold me in mid-air.

"Foolish Citizen! Why did you allow yourself to step into the gravity surrounding this sky-scraping structure! Human skeletons are not designed for such activity."

I crossed my arms to keep the blood from rushing to my head. Holding me by one ankle over a probably fatal drop, was that orange chick. You know, the one girl? Green eyes, weird jewelry, purple outfit, her room-mate owes me like twelve tips by now? Well, she'd nearly killed me by stopping my fall that way. Why didn't my neck snap? I'm not sure. I casually pulled my hat back down as it went to fall the remaining four stories. I was surprised to see the cheerful alien suddenly start wagging that finger again as she…scolded…me with a cue-carded speech.

"Citizens are forbidden by law to end their own existence under purpose of themselves. If averted, it can be punished by…"

Her huge green eyes went from stern, to perfectly blank.

"And…uh…"

She suddenly reached into the wrist of the glove she held me with and pulled out a small white card, staring at it like a confused Labrador for a few seconds before squinting and dropping the traffic cop tone.

"…Robin requires practice in the area of his writing-hand…"

I nearly pushed my hat off with my eyebrows before bending at the waist towards her and with one hand taking the little stack of cards and flipping them over before placing them in her hand again. She'd been reading them upside-down. Sure, it was hilarious but I found it rather saddening. She thanked me and continued to lecture me on human laws in that accent/speech impediment of hers before reaching back into her glove and pulling out what I instantly recognized as a penny. I can place small change from fifty yards away, that's how I pay for waterproofing hat-spray.

"…imagine, if this currency symbol was your body…dramatically drop coin, take person to medical center."

…she read (these things)? I was about to tell her I _wasn't_ trying to kill myself when she dropped the coin past my gently swinging form. I followed it with my eyes as it fell the remaining distance to the sidewalk under us. Actually, it rebounded off the canopy roof of a hotel entrance sitting right under where I hung. It flicked sideways over the traffic of the two-lane road, bouncing again as it descended off a pile of couch cushions sitting in a parked pickup truck on the other side of the road.

It then bounced lightly onto the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Its forward momentum caused it to roll on its side past the foot traffic, traveling a good six feet before it slipped through the open doorway of a restaurant whose windows were full of Christmas lights and posters featuring waitresses in orange hot-pants. I slowly looked back up at my feet, where the orange girl looked down at me with an official stance as if she'd just made a point. She misread the last line of the card before pocketing it again.

"Was that involved in your plan of action?"

I shrugged, sighing sadly.

"…actually, that would have made a good Plan B...You didn't save my life, you just wasted three minutes of it that I could have spent watching those waitresses…I mean the ball game."

She tilted her head like a confused cat before scratching her crimson-haired head and slowly floating down to the sidewalk.

"…your ironic joking manner is familiar…have our paths made a perpendicular angle previously?"

As we floated down onto the empty sidewalk, I replied.

"Yeah. I'm the pizza guy. I've been over to your 'hideout' every night for the last two weeks? I'm the guy with the kayak and the hat?"

I pointed to my hat and mimed rowing a kayak. I hoped it would make her understand a few minutes earlier than usual. She tilted her head the other way as her boots touched down on the sidewalk. She had to raise her arm up over her head so my head didn't touch the ground. She then forgot about my _being_ upside down as she clapped her hands together in joy, in part dropping my ankle and causing me to fall in a tangled heap on the rough concrete.

"…The Bearer of Pizza! I had not recognized you without your portable pizza-container! If you weren't imitating a knotted pastry I would vibrate your hand!"

While she accidentally turned the concept of shaking hands into a horrible mental image, I was trying to free my shoulder from my bend of my left knee. As I struggled to unfold myself like a rice-paper pizza boy some Japanese grandfather made to show his grandchildren what happens when they don't finish high school, she kept blabbering on about how great 'pizza discs' were.

Thankfully, by the time I freed my head from the folds of my jacket she was nowhere in sight. I heard sirens a few blocks off, she must have heard them. I dusted myself off and looked up at the building I'd just fell off of, seeing a few helmet-strapped heads poking over the edge. One yelled.

"…you okay?"

I looked down at myself for a second before yelling back.

"Yeah."

He yelled back.

"Okay then. Tell you what, anyone asks, you were presumed dead and we performed our duty like true public servants."

…less paperwork, eh?

I heard from a friend that the insurance companies absolutely hate 'superior life-forms' like _that_ girl. Every event has to be documented, every last catch-phrase and colorful leotard that should be a few sizes baggier.

I nodded slowly, tipping my hat up at them before walking off.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Needless to say, I went over to that restaurant to get that penny. Took ten minutes and the help of three blonde waitresses, but eventually I walked out with both Mr. Lincoln and one of the girl's numbers. Which I later dropped into a wire trash bin in my apartment/wall-hole that is overflowing with similar numeric codes and feminine signatures scrawled under them.

I haven't had good luck with women. Let's leave it at that.

The Next Day

I've woken up in some weird places, and with even weirder people. So I can't say I was utterly flabbergasted when I opened my eyes to see a leaf-green basset hound sniffing my face to see if I was dead. I just yawned and pushed the mutt off me before checking under my head to make sure the pizza-bag was still warm.

First of all, I wasn't bumming around the pizzeria when this happened. My boss caught an early flight back and I did three runs before the nearly nightly call came, and I braved the ankle-high waves of the lakefront in my trusted plastic boat with the usual order.

…and waited outside the front entrance of this capital letter of a dorm building for close to three hours. Eventually I just made myself comfortable on a concrete slab and decided to wait it out. Did I mention I get paid by the hour on weekends?

I assumed I'd just shoved off their pet or something that they'd let out to run around or something. I'm used to this from normal customers. I dusted the paw-prints off my shirt and shoulder my bag, deciding to try the intercom now that they'd probably come home while I was out. Thankfully, the instant I pressed the button a voice answered. It was a new one, softer spoken but with the grammar of either a cub scout leader or a guy mocking the former.

"Stop trying to remember the code, Beast Boy. Just use a window or something."

I nearly sent my hat flying off with my eyebrows before looking back to see that green dog was nowhere to be seen. I spoke into the recently replaced speaker box.

"Um…this is the pizza guy. You guys still want these?"

Silence. Then sharp crackling, like some one was sighing through their teeth into the microphone.

"…so, some green guy didn't take the pizzas?"

I shook my head and went to tell him no, but he cut me off. They must have a camera in this thing now.

"Beast Boy! Get the pizzas, and get your lazy butt up here!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, but I think the scar tissue was too tight to let that happen, when a voice screeched from right behind me.

"_HEY! _I was trying to wake him up the whole time!"

I jumped to the side and backward to see what looked like a middle school kid in a purple/black male cheerleading outfit had suddenly appeared behind me. As he gritted his slightly crooked and somehow pointed teeth at the speaker as if I'd never been in front of it, it dawned on me that this kid's face was a striking shade of green. For two seconds I dug through the cardboard box that is my memory and recognized him as that one nerd who answered the door that one time.

…Dang…I thought that was just face-paint.

The intercom shot back.

"I've been watching the monitor, you didn't go near him until just now…"

These guys apparently forgot about me. Well, the fact I was still there at least. The green kid suddenly stepped back a bit, his elongated ears flattening back like he was part dog or something. He looked both ways, probably looking for the camera.

"Um…uh…Star broke the elevator again!"

"You can _fly_…if it turns out you were trying to get into Raven's room from the window…_again…_"

The next ting I knew, there was an empty pizza bag dangling from my wrist and the sliding doors of the place were sliding shut. I leaned over to see through the crack into the entry-way, seeing a black and purple pair of shoulders walking towards the elevator. Right before the crack sealed, I heard a growling grumble echo out through the gap.

"Geez, he thinks he wears the _tights_ around here…"

After the door closed, I spent a few moments wondering how he'd snatched the pizzas out of the bag. I examined the locking-latch over the zipper to find it has been pried open without tearing the material. I modified this thing myself in a high-school metal shop. The teacher was a bit senile, he thought I was a student. A twenty two year old sophomore, it could happen. So how'd a little shrimp like that…pry the lock open that fast? And without my noticing? Green skin…odd facial features…could he have been a meta-human? And what happened to the dog?

"…are you _still_ there?"

I glanced over at the gray box, seeing the red light was still on. I shook it off and leaned down so he could hear me.

"…are you…"

I glanced down at my hand and squinted at the sweat-smudged blue ink.

"…Rodin?"

He corrected me like my old English teacher.

"Robin. Why are you still here?"

…a complete jerk. Just like my English teacher. I narrowed my eyes, not caring of there was a camera around or not.

"…I'm Dave Setanta. I've been delivering your stuff for a couple months now. I've been trying to reach you, but apparently the note fell off the brick."

A whirring sound. Yeah, he has a camera on me. I adjusted my hat brim on reflex.

"That was _you?_ We…thought it was another protester…"

A protester? Could a stay-at-home mom or some wimpy college kid hurl a masonry brick into a fifth story window? I think not.

"…you didn't actually break anything, those windows were _open_."

…that…explains why I didn't hear glass break…

"Kid, I've been down here more than thirty times. Sometimes twice a day. Every so often I ask for the tip, and your name comes up. In fact, you answered the 'com the first night I came out here. In a Goddamn' hurricane."

Sharp crackling from the speaker. I leaned down closer. The thing was mounted about five feet high so I had to bend a bit.

"…I have _no _life, what so ever…and I will hunt you down and shake you down for quarters if I don't get a…"

Without even losing pace I took a small step to the right. A potted plant shattered on the white concrete I'd just been standing on.

"…tip."

I looked over my shoulder to look at the blossom dirt that just barely hit my shoes. It was a synthetic plant judging by the lack of roots, but the soil was wet and dripping over the red pot fragments. Who _waters_ a fake plant? Throwing it at the pizza boy I get, but watering it?

"…you carry a _math compass _on your little swiss army belt…and you throw a plant at me?"

"H…How'd you…"

I rolled my eyes up at my hat brim.

"Your friends gave me one of your outfits. Shoulder pads? Traffic light colors? What are you, a color-blind nerd? I give you credit for the cape, but still…"

I stepped to the left, over the plant remains. I let my eyes rise and quickly drop to the stone as what looked like a…green basketball with a tail…dropped down near my shoulder and bounced a bit when it hit the ground. I stared down at it, expecting it to explode. Instead, it unrolled into a little green rodent with armored plates covering its cat-sized body. It shook its pointy little head a few times in a daze, and I jumped back as I was suddenly faced with that green guy again. He looked up at the row of windows over the entrance and shook a gloved fist.

"Robin, just pay the dude! And stop throwing out windows before I call PETA!"

As he spoke, I creaked my neck up to look at the windows expecting to see another shape-shifting adolescent thrown at me. Instead, a small green song bird shot up past my other shoulder and ducked through an open window. One glance to the side told me the kid was nowhere to be seen.

…shape shifter. Figures.

Eventually I turned my attention back to the black box on the wall. Remembering something, I reached into my jacket and pulled out something I'd brought along just in case this guy was home. I held it up so hi camera would see it and calmly asked.

"…this look familiar?"

In my hand, was that little memento from my home city. A little throwing blade, with its prongs carved liked little bat wings. No answer. I reached over and tapped the speaker.

"I know you're there. I looked at your incoming mail once. You got packages coming in from Gotham City. And the stuff on your belt was made of the same metal as this thing. I used to work in a scrap yard, trust me on this."

The speaker didn't react. Its link just kept on blinking, and I kept on staring into it. Right into the camera.

"Either I get my tip, or I get some information. I don't care who you punks are, and I don't care about whatever it is you do. I just need to find the guy who threw this at me."

Nothing. I stared into that little red light for close to forty seconds. Nothing at all. I just shook my head, managing not to smash the thing as I turned and sighed.

"I'll be back. You can't live on the frozen crap forever. Pizza, is pizza."

Note cards. I should have written note cards.

As I walked away from the silent intercom and the uninviting porch, I swung the empty bag over my shoulder and wondered if maybe I should just hand this route to one of the rookies. Let _them_ deal with it.

When I was about twenty feet away, there was a dull thud from the door. I didn't turn around, I just asked the path in front of me.

"…he threw you out again?"

An embarrassed, possibly pained voice answered.

"No…I just…uh, tripped."

I nodded slowly, walking off to the shore to find my kayak and possibly head back to my dancing school attic for the night. 'Home' isn't a correct title for it. It's just where I go to sleep at night.

Or most of the time, spend twelve hours lying on a cot wondering if my little brother is still alive.

Author's Notes

Will edit typos out tomorrow, maybe edit the body a bit if it comes off as too rough-cut. And for reference, BB turned into an armadillo. That's all I have to say.


End file.
